Assassin
by Gaea
Summary: A vampire assassin on the job. A bit of a crossover with X-men, though none of the comic book chars show up. Just the mutant registration idea. I finished it! Both chaps are up now!
1. Plotting

1 Hi people. :) Thanks for reading my story. ;) I'd like to add to the people who've read my other work…I did this whole thing allllllllllll by myself. No help from other people. This was an English assignment that turned out weird. O.o Anyway, read and review. :)  
  
The old fool was extremely predictable. He did everything at the same time. I clicked the one screen where I'd set up my file on Jerry Gerald. There were several pictures of the tall, balding millionaire. He was a thin man, who wore glasses on his long nose.  
  
There was his schedule…to most people it would seem random, but after studying it, faithfully following him, writing down where he went, when, I had it down. He did everything in a well-ordered patter, he was too old for him to change his ways easily. From the pattern I could predict, accurately, where'd he'd be and when.  
  
He'd only started mixing up his schedule last week when I'd appeared in his locked room on his highly alarmed and guarded estate with the cameras and motion detectors that showed nothing of my approach.  
  
I'd told him then that my employer did not appreciate his anti-mutant funding. Next time, so my message went, I would come as an assassin and not just a messenger. My employer at this point was paying me a great deal of money for jerry's murder, and so I did not complain at being sent as a messenger.  
  
From the first time I'd met Jerry (As a half-flirting busty woman with black hair, bright green eyes and a New York accent), I'd seen that he was not the type to go back on his anti-mutant views. A spy, assassin, and trained observer, I'd immediately noticed that his 'watch' was not a watch, but a mutant detector of sorts. Basically so he could know if a mutant was near him. He was a public supporter of mutant registration, and although in his twisted mind mutants were not humans, they did have brains enough to want revenge. Like most evil, mutants would want to squash all good that spoke against them.  
  
And so he was an over-paranoid old man who was afraid of the mutants who had never done anything to him, and probably never would.  
  
His mutant beeper didn't go off when I talked to him. They never did.  
  
And so, Jessica, the woman with raven curls, emerald eyes, got a useful piece of information from him. He would not cheat on his wife. It was ironic actually. This man was obviously very moral. A quick touch on his mind told me that he was a devoutly religious man. Another ironic twist. Weren't all men created equal under God? He made his actions just to himself my telling himself that mutants weren't human.  
  
But anyway, his religion, his loyalty to his wife was useful to know. I'm not above seducing someone. I'm an assassin, a spy, and if using a touch of feminine wiles is the best way of getting near someone, then I'd do it. I get paid good money for what I do.  
  
He never saw Jessica again. I don't play the 30 year old busty woman often…she's very unlike me. Most people don't know what I look like. Most people don't know what I look like. Most people have seen Gwendolyn, my favorite. She's a tall elegant woman with reddish hair and black eyes.  
  
Very few people have actually seen Spike, or Samantha, me without the fake teeth, contacts, wigs and breast enhancements.  
  
Without my many disguises, I'm your normal rebellious teenager, about 17 with silver blond hair, so light it looks almost bleached, a few stubborn freckles, and ice chip blue eyes. Black leather, chains, spikes, combat boots and trenchcoats type of rebellious teenager.  
  
One would never associate the elegant British Gwendolyn or the outrageously flirtatious Jessica with the real Spike. My British accent is real, though. I'm rather proud of it.  
  
Anyway, my employer didn't want me to kill Jerry until I had proof he was still working for the anti-mutant cause. Jerry had not seen spike since I'd visited them, but I don't think he considered himself safe. (I always use Spike on the real job.)  
  
I quickly caught the several changes in his security systems. I smiled. I'd scared him badly. At first he'd doubled his guards and added more mutant detectors. Apparently they'd told him there was a way I could have slipped in.  
  
Now typing quickly into his system, where'd I placed a tap before teleporting up to his room on my last visit, I saw that if I was going to try and get in manually, it would be virtually impossible. Fortunately, I didn't have to get into it manually. His fancy alarm system would be quite useless when I got the information I needed to kill him. I knew I would find it.  
  
The only problem was – I scanned his schedule again – that there was no time anywhere other than when he was at the office to work on his anti- mutant campaigning.  
  
I'd already tested teleporting into the highly armed building. Every single alarm went off, meaning they were not mutant detectors, but power detectors, and my power, though not using the mutant gene, still rippled the normal effects of things enough to set the alarms off.  
  
Though I knew I could plant a camera and teleport away before anyone caught me, I'd been on surveillance enough after my visit to see how well they scanned the building. They'd find my camera, no matter where I hid it.  
  
That meant that getting into his office manually was the only way.  
  
Now, when I say getting into his estate with no powers was virtually impossible, I mean it would be a nice challenge for my skills. Getting into his –office-, however, with no powers at all, was the real impossibility. The reason for that being his employees having demanded he keep them safe, just in case the homicidal mutants out there decided to take out their own hatred of 'the boss' on the poor innocents who helped them. The only reason his house wasn't as alarmed to the ears as his office was because he didn't have to appease people there, and he had a whole regiment of guards that he really couldn't cart to work with him.  
  
As much as I stared at the floor plan of his office building, no plans came to me. It seemed there was no way I would be able to get a camera inside that building without detection. People who were janitors, secretaries, or who worked on electrical wiring and stuff like that were too well checked up on. My various identities were for appearance spying only; none of them actually existed. And any close checks on Spike (Samantha Horene) would reveal her to be dead. I could not telepathically persuade everyone in the hiring department…I'd surely miss someone. I'd made that mistake before. In the end I'd gotten out of jail for identity theft, and Spike's police record still looked fine from a few whispered words in the minds of the recording staff, but it'd taken me quite some time to regain my reputation, and it had left me in debt to quite a few people I would have preferred not to be in debt to. People who liked all to much having me in their debt.  
  
I'd be in debt with people for the outside help I needed with this project, but at least I'd be in control of it.  
  
Without donning one of my disguises, I entered Ambrosia, one of the many nightclubs that were exclusively for the odd types of the city. The people here knew who Spike was. Several of the younger ones shied away from me.  
  
"Alright." I said, my English touched voice raising effortlessly above the music in the bar. "I need help, and I pay, as most of you will know." I had everyone's attention now. "Anyone who can help me, stay, and anyone who can't…" I paused for a long moment, then threw down my mental shields. Most of the people flinched, a few of the weak ones gasped. "Scat." I said in a deadly quiet voice that everyone nonetheless heard over the music.  
  
I was left with three helpers. All three of them were older than me. Whether they were stronger than me was not something I was interested in finding out at the moment.  
  
One of them was Kahnset, a minor Egyptian princess. She sat regally in a chair as if it were a throne, her brown arms folded, her large eyes unreadable.  
  
The other two were men, one of them Miles, a Roman soldier, the other Chikotna, one of the first Native Americans to be reborn.  
  
It would be Miles who would be the most help, the only problem was, he'd be the hardest to deal with.  
  
"Why hello, Samantha." He said in his hard accented teasing voice. "What's the pretty little English noble vamp doing here?"  
  
"Bite me." I snapped at him, pulling a chair over to the table, spinning it so it was facing away from the table and straddling it, crossing my arms over the back.  
  
He raised an eyebrow at me. "Can I take that literally?" He asked innocently.  
  
I dropped the print outs of the plans I'd filched from Jerry's system. "You talk too much, soldier. I need in." I told the three of them. "No powers."  
  
All three of them stared at it. Chikotna traced several of the motion detecting beams, "Why no powers?" He asked with his quiet voice. His dark brown eyes that had seen far too much were on me. The Spanish had brought disease with them when they discovered the Americas, they had also brought a vampire or two.  
  
"Because all these…" I pointed to the little triangle symbols in each room. "Are power detectors, not mutant detectors."  
  
Miles laughed. "I think you've picked a fight with your match, finally, ma cherie." He was imitating my background again.  
  
"I'm not french." I growled at him. "I just lived there. Now stop that and don't call me cherie. I'm not paying you for your annoying comments. I'm paying you to help me get in there. I need a camera in. There're no cameras in his office, not even security, so my tap into the line doesn't work."  
  
"What about being a janitor or a secretary?" Kahnset asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Their background checks are too thorough. I still haven't been able to change my record from saying I'm dead."  
  
"Isn't all that security proof that he's anti-mutant? I mean, if his people know enough to be scared they're going to get attacked…"  
  
"Out of my head." I said firmly. He's been scanning my surface thoughts for the reason for this mission. I shrugged. "Even the White House is full of mutant detectors. However, the White House wouldn't be so hard to breach, because it's not armed with –power- detectors, like this place."  
  
Miles raised an eyebrow at me. "You've got a way into the White House? I underestimated you, dahling." He was imitating my accent now. I ignored him.  
  
"Of course I've got a way into the White House. I've been working on it for 30 years. If one of my employers decides they don't like the president, and wants me to blow up the place, I've gotta have a plan ready." I shrugged again. "But we're not –trying- to get into the White House! I'm trying to get in here!" I stabbed a finger at the map, exasperated.  
  
"I have a question." Kahnset said quietly. "Why are there power detectors in this place and not some place like the White House? They seem to be the better alarm system."  
  
"Against, me, yes. Because mutant detectors like the ones in the White House won't pick me up. The –power- detectors are cheaper, because they only detect ripples in the normality of things. My power makes them go off. Now, -mutant- detectors are more expensive because –they- detect the mutant –gene-. It's much more specified, much more complicated, and much more expensive. The White House is updated, thank goodness. It's a bad thing this guy's a cheapskate. He's not protecting his people with the best there is. Unfortunately, that's bad for us." I took a deep breath and stabbed my finger at the map again. "Come on people. I want in!"  
  
Miles frowned, pulling the map towards himself. He ran his fingers along several corridors, noting the thin red lines of the motion detectors. He flipped to the second page, the second floor, and the found the office.  
  
"What about the elevator or the stairs?" Asked Kahnset quietly. "You won't want to use either of them. They'll be way more sensitive to movement."  
  
"That leaves climbing the elevator shaft or the outside walls." Chikotna said quietly. "Outside, you'll be too easily seen by these…" stealing the outside map, he tapped two of his long brown fingers on two of the guard posts. "…so that leaves the ventilation shafts to get into the building, and the elevator shaft to hop floors." I nodded.  
  
"I can be a contortionist if I have to." I said, eyeing the ducts that led into the building.  
  
"That's an interesting image." Said Miles, glancing up from his map.  
  
"Shut up." I said. "Are you enlightened enough to join our discussion now?"  
  
"You're going to have a hell of a time getting in there, ma petite." I glared at him. He returned my gaze coolly.  
  
"But there is a way."  
  
I immediately decided to put Miles' plan into motion. That night.  
  
Don't forget to reviiiiiiiieeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwww… 


	2. Action

Outside the building, I walked on silent footsteps to the air duct that would lead into the building. The guards near it, unprotected by the power beepers, fell asleep rather suddenly upon meeting my eyes. I stared at the black entrance of the silver tunnel. –This- was going to be uncomfortable.  
  
I dropped, cat-like on the floor of the basement, then stood up carefully, making sure I didn't move at all outwards from where I stood. Moving excruciatingly slowly turning around, dropping into the opening of the vent, I almost gasped with relief when I could just hold still for a moment.  
  
The only reason the criss-crossing lasers did not include the area directly in front of the vent was probably because of rats having set off alarms. I was not a rat. Trying not to move farther than a rat hurt like hell.  
  
My vision went green when I slipped the goggles slowly over my eyes. The invisible lasers popped up red now. I slowly tipped my head back. Miles was right. There were less thin lines of red that would catch me on the ceiling. Damn. If I was going to jump, I'd have to angle it to hit a gap in the red, big enough for me and my backpack with it's essential equipment.  
  
Thankfully, my enhanced senses and muscles would not set off any alarms. I tensed up and angled, hitting the ceiling with a soft thump.  
  
I'd carefully transformed the tips of my fingers into clinging devices somewhat like the fabled Spider-man's before I entered the building. I can do minor shape-changes, and since I did this one outside the building, it would not set off any power alarms either.  
  
Crawling slowly across the ceiling, the irony struck me. I thought of Miles' words. What is the pretty little English noble Vamp doing here?  
  
The door into the next room loomed. Dangling from my black utility belt was a piece of coiled heavy endurance wire. With a carefully aimed swing and a flick of my laser pen, I could end up on the ceiling in the next room without any trouble.  
  
I glanced at the camera. Good thing Miles was using my tap to overlap the camera tapes from last night.  
  
Using precisely tuned instincts, I aimed my laser pen, hitting the target (the little pad hats sensed the laser's presence) right on. Now when I swung through the beam in the way, my laser pen would replace the original one, and the pad would sense no cutting of the laser hitting it. Carefully, making sure I tilted my hand perfectly so the beam never wiggled. I stuck it onto the ceiling gently with some putty. I'd get it when I came back.  
  
I drove my anchor into the ceiling, hooking it onto one of my armguards. Then I swung, cutting through one laser, but my pen replaced it perfectly. Slowly detaching myself from the cord, I stuck it to the ceiling so it wouldn't swing back.  
  
The service elevator was on the basement floor, open, thanks to Kahnset's previous hacking. Since it was open, the alarms would be down, and I crawled in, hanging on the ceiling with my feet and one hand as I pulled the tiles off the roof of the elevator. I carefully placed them on the top so I could get them later and replace them. I wiggled through the hole I'd made, then quickly climbed to the second floor.  
  
Prying the door open quietly, I landed silently in the hallway. This was where I'd start running into guards. There were no alarms on this floor, besides the power detectors, because the guards did have to move at some point. I crept carefully along the wall. I could crawl along the ceiling if I wanted to, but bored people look up, and hanging off the ceiling made to easy of a target out of me.  
  
I passed three of the guards in the shadows. I'd rather avoid hurting anyone. There's always the chance that these guys are buddies and might go looking for eachother. Not everyone stays at his or her posts. After all, nothing ever happens here.  
  
There. I was waiting for one of them to hear me. "Merde…" I muttered, although I knew that I would not get through without –someone- noticing, no matter how dead they were two seconds after this realization. The security guards, a fat, lazy mercenary in blue, came walking down the quiet hall, his boots clicking slightly. His flashlight threw a silver circle of light in front of him.  
  
"You looking for me, honey?" I asked quietly, stepping directly into the beam of light.  
  
His mouth was open, surprised at my sudden, silent approach. It gave me the two seconds that I needed to swing my foot in a deadly arch, hitting him directly behind the ear, making him fall, twitching slightly. He wasn't dead, but he wouldn't be telling anyone about me, either.  
  
I kept creeping. In the hallway outside the office was a whole regiment of about ten guys. This would be the fun challenge of tonight. None of them could have time to call for backup. And I couldn't use my powers.  
  
Five of them were lounging against one of the office walls. They all had guns. The other five had guns, too, but they were patrolling the hallway. I could pick the five sentries off, but I'd still end up with the five on the wall all coming at me at once.  
  
One by one, the sentries found me in their hallways, waiting crouch. A series of punches directly aimed at a soft spot on the skull would keep them from remembering much. They'd just think they fell asleep on the job. And they'd never tell each other. Too proud for that.  
  
I'd put it off. I had to get rid of the guards in the hallway. Turning the corner, I walked straight towards them.  
  
It took them a few seconds to realize that I, in my black working outfit with it's several guns, utility belt, and black backpack was not one of them, returning from a watch to switch off.  
  
Dodging between them, knocking radios, phones, and other beeper devices out of their hands with quick blows.  
  
It took a while to beat them down. However, they were only too human, and my ability to move faster than they could see without using my power really confused them.  
  
Taking a deep breath, I picked the lock on his steel lined door that wasn't alarmed in case the guards were in trouble and slipped into the office.  
  
He was a very neat man. The office was almost bare of everything except his desk and his chair. Unlucky. There'd be no nifty and handy place for me to put the camera. "Maintenant où mettre cette chose…" I used French almost unconsciously, the language I'd used most of my life bubbling to my tongue with my frustration. "Où ne rechercheraient-ils pas un appareil- photo ?" That's right…Where would they –not- look for a camera? Unbidden, I glanced at the ceiling again. I smirked.  
  
A week later. They'd brushed over the guards' stories there had been a woman in black in the building. There had been no evidence of my entrance –anywhere- no alarms had gone off –anywhere- nothing had been disturbed except the guards, and so they simply assumed they had been on something, dismissed them, and gone on with normal security.  
  
My camera was in the ceiling. Looking down through a crack that was already there.  
  
The only problem was…I still, after scanning the tapes a good many times, had not found the evidence that I needed. People came and went, he worked on his computer. Nothing on his computer had anything to do with mutants. It was all legitimate work. "Damnez-le…" I grumbled angrily, turning away from the monitor that showed me nothing.  
  
"I have a theory, Samantha." Miles had been helping me monitor since last week. I'd grown sick of his little comments since them, but I tried not to snap at him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I think…you've been sent on a goose chase. It's pretty well known that several of the more wealthy mutant supporters have died recently. Who was hiring you then?"  
  
"Guy who called himself Magneto." I shrugged. "I dunno, he was paying me good."  
  
"Who hired you for this job?"  
  
I shrugged. "I assumed it was the same guy. He didn't mention a name, but he wanted the same basic services as Mags."  
  
"But he didn't mention his name?"  
  
"No he didn't." I snapped. "But most of my employers don't. That way they can't be traced. I fail to see what this has to do with the fact I –still- haven't found the information I need to kill this guy."  
  
"What if…Jerry…hired you?"  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"Well…since it was generally known money-bags were dying, maybe he looked you up and hired you on a goose chase to get you out of the way…? There were several gaps of you getting into that building that were just plain unexplainable. You shouldn't have been able to do it without powers. He did this so you'd spend your time watching the wrong place and-"  
  
"Stupid. If he didn't realize Mags wouldn't sick me on him, then I'd find out his plan and kill him anyway." I shrugged.  
  
"You're taking this calmly." Miles said, folding his fingers together carefully into a steeple.  
  
I shrugged. I still got paid for this goose chase, and although it included work I could have avoided, it was good money. However, I will also exact my revenge. He'll be dead tomorrow morning."  
  
"Doesn't it bother you that he bested you?" Miles was looking at me funny, his eyes narrowed slightly, as if something I said was particularly unbelievable.  
  
"Yes, but he won't be besting anyone by tomorrow, so why should I be all upset?"  
  
Miles frowned slightly but said nothing.  
  
I smiled, wandered to the back of my cave-like apartment. I eyes the piles of knives, guns, and other devices and carefully chose things that would hurt. "But I didn't say he'd die quickly."  
  
Miles blinked a couple times.  
  
"I wonder if Mags will pay me for killing him even though he didn't, literally, hire me." I said, eyeing the knife I had picked, one with wicked notched edges that wouldn't hurt going in, but would tear up stuff coming out.  
  
Miles raised an eyebrow but didn't say aything about my choice of weapons.  
  
I went on talking to myself. "He'll probably pay. Jerry really is an old fool." I paused, corrected myself. "Was." 


End file.
